


seeing without eyes

by shinmegaymer (frontierpodiatrist)



Category: Rune Factory (Video Games), Rune Factory 4
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Love Confessions, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25534903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frontierpodiatrist/pseuds/shinmegaymer
Summary: Who can fault a simple spirit living in a box for falling in love?
Relationships: Eliza/Frey (Rune Factory)
Kudos: 8





	seeing without eyes

Eliza is an it.

Eliza is an object, stationary.

Eliza opens a mouth that should not speak.

Eliza is an anomaly, something that shouldn’t exist.

Eliza can’t breathe, not like people can, but it can feel.

And oh god, does it feel. Beauty is incomprehensible, especially so to an inanimate object that has never had the opportunity to see first hand what is beautiful, but Eliza cannot help but feel as if Frey is beautiful. Eliza cannot tell you what is beauty, what defines it, what it means to people, to humans, to anyone, but if anyone or anything is beautiful it is Frey. She is boundless energy, a blur of green to the outside world, to the eyes that Eliza should not have. On the days of festivals, when they are all gathered in the plaza, the other residents are always happier when she arrives. She greets the other girls with a bright smile and a cheerful hello, listening to their conversation with the same attentiveness she applies to everything she does. When she wins the festival ( regardless of what it is ) Eliza has never seen anyone be surprised. The group of boys that gather in a circle afterward look to her reverently, as something unattainable, as something to be admired. It is a feeling that is relatable, Eliza thinks.

Days come and go, and with them so does the princess of the castle. Frey visits often, always smiling, asking questions, providing the only company Eliza has come to know and probably ever will know. She is a force to be reckoned with, consistently flying in and out of town with more scars and cuts lining her back and legs than there were when she left. She brings people back, once, twice, three times, carrying them on her back as if they were the weight of feathers. Eliza watches this all, it is the only thing Eliza can do. Watch. 

Eliza watches when Frey learns the news of Ventuswills’ soon to be passing, as she wails a desperate plea, as she follows something only she can see to the forest beyond Selphia. 

Eliza watches as Doug becomes distant, when Frey approaches him he is silent and solemn.

Eliza watches when Ventuswill comes back into town with a blur of green upon her back. 

Eliza watches when the Sechs soldier comes into the plaza, defying the laws of nature by taking the form of a dragon. 

Eliza watches when Frey leaves, her eyes more hardened and cold than ever before, shoulders squared up for a fight. 

Eliza watches when she returns, relief and happiness present in the whole village’s faces as they celebrate their victory.

Eliza watches when Frey emerges from the castle room, a face streaked with tears, knowing she has to break the news to the rest of the town.

And Eliza watches when Frey brings Ventuswill back.

They talk when Frey has the time to linger, has the time to take a moment, as short as it is. Frey asks many questions, curious by Eliza’s existence, but no more curious than Eliza is. Not all questions have answers. Sometimes, though, Eliza can make one. So it becomes a she (by Frey’s preference). The feeling of being human never comes closer than it does then. Through all this, Frey takes every request that comes her way. Until there are no more. Well, there’s still the everyday requests for monster slaying, and deliveries, any menial favour.  
But there’s nothing of special importance left to be done. The fear that Frey may stop talking to her is so overwhelming Eliza almost feels a heart beating inside her, rapid and skipping over itself. Yet Frey doesn’t. Even when Eliza tells her “Well done,” and “I’m really, really glad I got to meet you,” churning out sentences sounding so much like finality. Frey says “thank you,” and starts up another conversation as if it didn’t even happen. Asking her why she took the name Eliza, if it was a decision or if it was her name from before she could remember, if it was given. And well, the story is a bit boring, that she simply took the name from a tourist, but Frey listens anyway, as if it were the most interesting story in the world.

Seasons pass slowly for Eliza, whose only event of every day is when Frey talks to her, or someone drops by with a request or mail. The only way to pass the time is people watching. Watching, watching, watching. And she notices a couple of things. Of all the people in the village, the boys all love Frey. She has many suitors, but in all the time Eliza has known and seen her pass by, she has never given a single one of them an ounce of interest romantically. In fact, she has never seen Frey show interest in anyone. Except, perhaps, Eliza herself. This thought comes across her many times, and every time she brushes it off, because well, who could love a bunch of pieces of wood with a dumb feathered hat.

“Eliza! Good morning!”

Sometimes, Eliza finds, she thinks for so long the day blends into the next. It is always a shock when it does. “Good morning, here are the requests for the day,” she says it automatically, even if it’s not what Frey is looking for. “I’ll pass on the requests, thanks, I just wanted to talk with you.” Eliza would be blushing if she could. “H-Hm, what is it?”

“Well, you know how you said you were from something called the Sharance Tree?” Frey swings her arms behind her back as she talks, rocking back and forth against the wind. “Well, I’m sure you’ve seen Raven around, long red hair, sort of broody. She’s from Sharance, a mountain city she told me, so I asked her about the tree. She showed me to these binoculars at the edge of the town that were towards the tree in Sharance and it’s  _ huge.  _ I can’t believe you came from that! But it’s really beautiful! Raven told me it grows bigger and more vibrant the stronger the relationships are between humans and monsters, isn’t that amazing? You came from something so cool, Eliza!”  
Frey’s voice comes out happy and clear, and whatever reply Eliza thought to come up with is gone. It’s not like hearing her laugh is rare, but for some reason, this strikes her. Eliza was never particularly interested in herself, her history, simply accepting things as they were. Even now, the information isn’t that interesting to her, she doesn’t think she’s very impressive on her own. To think Frey would be so happy for Eliza, so excited to find out something new about her, it’s sort of maddening, in its’ own way. She wishes she had a face, then, to smile at Frey, to laugh with her and crinkle her nose back. That she had laughter lines and dimples, glistening teeth that shone in the sunlight. Wishes she had hands to hold Frey’s with, arms to hold her, a mouth to kiss. Eliza wishes a lot of things. She wishes so much she forgets to reply, stagnant and quiet silence stretching between them until Frey begins to think she’s said something wrong. “Eliza? Is everything okay? Did I get too nosy?”

“No! I’m sorry, I was simply lost in thought.”

“About what?” Frey leans in, looking into Eliza’s eyes, two holes cut into a shabby wooden box. “What are you thinking about?”

“Well, I ... oh, I suppose there’s no point not saying anything. I was wondering how you remembered that.”

Frey doesn’t miss a beat. “Because I like you, Eliza. I want to know everything about you, you know?”

Eliza gets the distinct feeling this is what choking feels like. “Wh-wh-wh ... you like me? Wh ... how? Why? I’m just a ... box. I’m not even a person, I-I don’t have a heart, I don’t have a body or a brain. I’m just, well, I don’t even know what I am. You can’t _like_ a concept of what could have been a person. You have so many people in Selphia that already love you but you chose a mailbox? **Really**? I don’t ... I don’t understand.”  
“Oh,  _ Eliza, _ ” Frey says her name achingly, like it hurts her, and reaches out a hand to the side of her head. “You’re not a concept or anything like that, you’re a person. You’re a person just the same as me. Just because you don’t have a body doesn’t mean you can’t feel. I mean, you can feel this, can’t you? Or you can feel confused, like you are now. I didn’t choose anyone to love, it just happened to be you. I think you’re adorable, funny, and so giving. And I like your hat. Even if you don’t. I think it’s sort of funny looking in a cute way.”

If she could, Eliza thinks she might be crying.

“ ... It really is a dumb hat,” she says. “I like you, as well.”

Frey grins what can only be described as knowingly, “I could tell.” Eliza thinks she might have been embarrassed if this conversation had gone differently, but now all she can feel is fondness. “Can I hug you?” Frey asks. Eliza tries to nod somewhere deep in her consciousness and thinks maybe her hat shifts forward a fourth of an inch. “Yes,” she says instead.

“You know, were you thinking about anything else before?” Frey’s arms wrap around her, and though the position is clunky and awkward with their conflicting shapes, it’s comforting. Eliza concedes. “I was thinking about having a body. So I could hold you and your hand, and ... kiss you.” There isn’t any sort of response afterward and Eliza starts experiencing anxiety, she only just got her feelings reciprocated and she’s already gone and messed it all up. But then Frey moves, kisses the top of her box shaped head. “Well, you don’t really have anything like hands, so I guess a hug will have to do. Just because you don’t have a body doesn’t mean I can’t kiss or hold you, besides who knows, maybe I could get you a body. I’ve already brought four people back from a monster form what’s to say earthmates can’t give people bodies,” she laughs, running her fingers down Eliza’s head. “Stop that, you’ll get splinters.” She doesn’t stop. “Someone could walk in at any moment and see you embracing the request box and then you’ll earn the title of town loon,” she says it like a complaint but well, it’s more an attempt to hide her bashfulness than anything else. “Add it to my many other ones. Princess, master, idiot, klutz ... might as well add town loon to the bunch,” she laughs again, fingers feeling the felt around Elizas’ shoulders. Eliza can’t breathe, not like people can, but she can feel. And she feels warmth.


End file.
